Cornwall Murders
by MaraudersAffair
Summary: After the Ministry begins to find bodies of young men, Harry is assigned to collect the evidence to capture the suspect. His main source for evidence is a one Severus Snape. HPSS
1. Chapter 1

_**Authorities Baffled By Cornwall Murders**_

**by Juanna Ria 1.11.00**

**LONDON (DP) -- Another body was found early Sunday morning by Muggle police in south-west Cornwall, says Ministry Officials. The death toll is currently at five, all males between the ages of 15 and 26. Police say the 24-year-old victim had been placed in the alleyway behind Ellis entertainment pub hours before discovery, the position of the body "vulgar" and "obscene". The Ministry has refused to make a statement at this time, which leads many experts to believe that no suspects have been questioned.**

_Who are these phantom experts?_ Harry wondered, dropping the newspaper to his desk and leaning back in his chair. Pain suffused with stressful nerves, and it created a throbbing ache in the center of his forehead, spreading to his temples and around to back of his head. He sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hand, closing his eyes in a brief moment of thoughtless relaxation.

He allowed his breathing to slow, forcing his heart to beat at a normal rate. Leaning forward once more, he rested his arms on the desk, cradling his head with two strong hands. An empty cup stood beside his left elbow, stained from the caffeine-laced tea he had been drinking. A sense of restlessness eclipsed his thoughts, and he had begun to tap aimlessly with his fingers against a stack of files when someone knocked quickly on his door.

"Come in," Harry said hastily, standing up to welcome his new visitor.

Dean Thomas entered in a quick fashion, his brow creased and eyes filled with doubt. Without saying a word, he sat down in a chair facing Harry, and dropped a thick case folder to his desk. The heavy paper made an ominous _thud_, and Harry looked down, his eyes reading the name _Thorfinn Rowle_ on the title flap.

"So, you have heard," Dean said, motioning to the newspaper on his desk. "A disaster, this whole thing is. Five victims -- and how far have we come?"

Harry nodded. "We have made progress, though -- at least we know who's doing it."

Rolling his eyes, Dean exclaimed, "That was the easy part! We just need to find the bastard."

"Anything new?" Harry reached down and opened the folder, flipping through the first three pages. He had read it all to the point of memorization.

Dean's eyes flashed quickly to his face at the question. "There _is_ something new -- sort of."

"What? What is it?"

Pausing, Dean looked down at the floor. "We may have someone who can help us find Rowle. Maybe." His hesitation confused Harry.

He blinked at Dean, waiting for him to continue. After a moment of silence, Harry finally asked, "Who?"

When Dean looked up, his eyes focused on the wall, not on Harry's face. "Snape," he said cautiously, as if the word was laced with poison.

"Snape," Harry responded slowly, his mind stalling. He stared at Dean, unable to grasp the situation. His eyes widened. "_Snape_ is killing all those men?" Astonishment was clear in his voice, but he could easily accept that Snape was the murder, not Rowle.

"No!" Dean responded quickly, his eyes finally resting on Harry's face. "I meant that Snape could help us find Rowle."

A strange disappointment settled within Harry. Shaking his head, he said, "How? I don't understand."

"Rowle was a Death Eater, right?"

"Right, but I --"

"We have reports that they were seen together."

Harry stilled, his brow furrowing. "When?"

"Few months ago, I'd say. Down in Knockturn Alley."

"What in the hell were they doing there?"

"Dunno, the witnesses say they just met at a pub for about fifteen minutes. Then Rowle left."

"What did Snape do?"

Dean shrugged. "Finished his drink casually. Apparated about a half hour later."

"Doesn't seem like a man who has a lot on his mind. I wonder what they talked about." Harry walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing his legs at the ankle.

Reaching into his pocket to finger what appeared to be a phial, Dean said, "Well, it seems like we can find out their conversation."

"What's in your pocket?"

Dean withdrew the phial and handed it to Harry. "The barmaid's memories. She heard the whole thing."

"Anything interesting?" Harry inspected the memories with care.

"That's the thing. I didn't want to look at them before I talked to you."

Harry's attention was drawn back to Dean. He thought for a moment. "Ah," he said, nodding with the realization, "You want me to confront Snape."

"You are the only one who stands a chance. He'd tear anyone else apart."

"And he won't do that to me?" Harry's eyes glittered with interest.

"Of course he will. But at least you know how to deflect his scorn."

Harry laughed. "His scorn? The man is an utter bastard. He hates everyone, especially me."

Shrugging, Dean answered, "You are the only one who has experience dealing with him on a personal level. We need to get him to open up, maybe by anger or weariness. We need someone who knows how the man works."

Harry parted his lips in surprise. "And . . . you think I know how he works?"

"Maybe -- maybe not." Dean paused. "You speaking to him is our best bet."

Leaning back on his desk, Harry crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes searching Dean's face as he thought. "I should -- go to his house? Knock on his door and say what? That we desperately need his help?"

"If you think it would work."

Harry made a sound and pushed himself from the desk, his hand tugging at the end of his hair. "I don't know! Maybe! It's not like Snape and I are best mates here."

"You could always bring up Dumbledore."

He gaped at Dean, his eyebrows raised and jaw unhinged. "Are you mad? Bring up Dumbledore -- that's a sure death sentence!"

Dean didn't seem affected by his reaction. "Why are you so sure of that? If you say something along the lines of _Dumbledore would have wanted you to do it_ or . . . you know."

Shaking his head, Harry thought Dean insane -- unstable. Obviously this man had no inkling of how Severus Snape worked. _But you do . . .?_ He blinked away the question, and turned to the window of his office. Walking around his desk, he approached and looked out of the window, inspecting the Muggle activity below.

He balanced himself against the wall and unhooked the latch, allowing the afternoon sun to stream into the stuffy room, deeply breathing in the London smog and wet garbage odor. The yellow rays heated his cheeks, reddening them and forcing light sweat to appear along his hairline. He closed his eyes briefly and tilted his head upward, his forehead soon creasing as the thought of seeing Snape again entered his mind.

It had been years since _Severus Snape_ had even occupied his thoughts. All he knew of the former Death Eater was that he was still alive, unprisoned and shunned by society like most who had followed Voldemort. Years and war separated him from when he had been Snape's scared pupil, and it confused Harry as to why he was apprehensive of questioning the old potions master.

Harry was an adult now -- a confident man with a serious profession. So why was his stomach twisting at the moment? Why were his palms suddenly sweating and his head spinning?

"Ah," Dean said, looking down at his watch, "I must see Luna downstairs about the loose dragons in France. I trust you will look at the memories?"

Harry turned to him and motioned to the phial on his desk. "I'll drop them into my pensieve right now."

Nodding, Dean stood and shook Harry's hand before exiting the room. Harry watched him leave, and he bit the inside of his lip in thought, ignoring the pain in his stomach. Looking at one's memories had always been something the Ministry did, especially when it came to murders. If a witness came forward there was no doubt that a sample of their silvery memories would be taken from their head. Biases and incorrect sightings were just too prevalent, and Harry and the other Aurors wanted to be positive of their evidence.

As it was, Harry didn't know why a sense of anxiety surged through him at the idea of plunging into this woman's head -- to see Snape for the first time in years. His hesitancy angered him -- Harry saw it as a weakness that had lay dominant in past years. Severus Snape would not terrorize him now.

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked to his desk and pulled out his pensieve, setting it carefully beside the Rowle file. The faded runic markings on the side still baffled Harry, but he ignored them as he grabbed the phial and twisted the top off, spilling the contents into the basin. Without thinking, he plunged his head into the liquid and was soon falling through darkness.

He landed in a crowded room, filled with a smoky substance that was issuing from the numerous pipes of tobacco, which dangled from the rotten and yellowed teeth of the men who occupied the bar. He had to suck in a quick breath, his lungs unaccustomed to the thick air and seedy smell. The scent of mildew and termite-infested wood added to the feeling of misdeed and danger. Squinting through the glare from the blazing lanterns, he spotted Snape and -- what appeared to be Rowle sitting not far from where Harry stood. He suddenly was aware of a woman standing next to him, her eyes focused on the two men and her head tilted toward their low voices.

Moving closer to hear, Harry was struck by how weary Snape appeared. It was an expression -- a weakness -- that Harry had never witnessed on the man's stricken features before. It surprised him, and something like apathy surged inside him. He then noticed Rowle -- small and pudgy, his face round and his eyes dark with an emotion Harry could not recognize. The two men leaned close to one another, their hands splayed out before them on the stained table and almost touching. Rowle spoke in a deep, quick whisper. He laughed, but Snape's intense expression did not change.

"Why did you ask me here? I do not care about your ventures," Snape said abruptly, obviously repulsed by Rowle's greedy humor.

Rowle's face fell into an austere expression, one to match Snape's. Pausing, he said with a slight grin, "You know why." Harry caught sight of his chipped teeth.

Snape blinked, then sneered violently. "I'm done -- you should be embarrassed to even consider it."

"You are the one making the assumptions." Rowle smiled broadly, his expression creating a sickly feeling deep inside Harry's stomach.

Snape's cheeks reddened slightly. "Stop wasting my time." His words were rushed.

"I need to get away. Thought you would want to come with me."

"What would ever give you that idea?"

Rowle's eyes flashed, and his mustache twitched. "There is nothing here for you!" Spittle issued from his mouth.

Snape smiled. His teeth gleamed in the dark light. "Now, who is assuming."

Standing abruptly, Rowle glared down at Snape. "You fool," he said quietly, disgust finally appearing in his features. "Stay, if you want. Stay and rot with your regret."

If his words affected Snape, it did not show on his face. He merely stared back at the man, obviously waiting for his departure. Without another word, Rowle flung his traveling cloak around his shoulders and stalked off, leaving a full glass of beer on the table. Snape stared down at his hands, his eyes black and unreadable. He stayed like that for a long moment, then blinked and took a deep drink from his glass. Harry noted that his hands trembled slightly as they grasped the glass, his knuckles white and the veins in his wrists straining.

Harry didn't realise when he stepped closer, but he did see the way Snape's lips moved slowly, as if he spoke words only he could hear and understand. It was a powerful moment -- Harry was struck by how lonely and pathetic Snape appeared. He side-glanced the woman next to him, and she had the same, disconcerting expression on her broad face. Harry began to fidget uncomfortably, and his palms sweat considerably -- he didn't like the feeling. He needed to get away.

Summoning all of his strength, he pulled himself out of the memory, falling to the floor of his office. He heaved a deep breath and wiped cool sweat away from his forehead. Now, all he needed was the courage to confront the man.

**XXX**

The air was bitterly cold, grey and nipping, it stung Harry's cheeks and burned his chest when he breathed. He was nervous and angry at himself for it, which only made his anxiety more potent. He couldn't feel his fingers, but he knew they trembled, his black gloves buried deep in his pockets. An address rolled over inside his head, the name _Spinner's End_ creating an itching at the base of his neck. His steps tramped on muddy garbage and forgotten paper, the slick street gleaming from the recent rainwater.

As Harry walked, he thought of a way to get Snape to open up. Dean's suggestion seemed slightly pretentious, if not downright cruel. Yes, Snape had been an utter bastard during the time Harry had been at school, but from what he saw in the memory, something had changed within Snape. Harry wondered if it was regret -- he hoped it was regret, because even if he didn't want to admit it, he wanted Snape to feel pain -- to have found remorse -- to actually appear human. It was one of his flaws, Harry pondered, but he desperately wanted to see the good in men he felt sympathy for.

He needed to form a plan, and quickly -- if he arrived at Snape's home without any sort of preparation, Snape would surely strike down any of Harry's probing. Did Snape still have any feeling of loyalty toward Rowle? Harry couldn't tell -- the memory had been regretfully vague. It created more questions than answers. What sort of friendship did Rowle and Snape have? Could it have been something strong -- a bond the two experienced during their time as faithful Death Eaters? Rowle had turned spy not long after Snape did -- could that possibly be the result of his trust toward the man?

Harry couldn't help but feel weak. So many mysteries and nothing to support his need for answers except random assumptions. He laughed without humor as he remembered Snape's conversation with Rowle, his breath creating a white puff in the air. He was about to make an utter fool of himself. An idea occurred to him, and even though he didn't have confidence in it, he still pulled out the newspaper article about the murders he had stuck in his pocket for reference. Showing Snape the article may move him enough to open up -- maybe, but most likely not.

Realising he was close to his destination, his heart began to thunder violently in his chest, his breathing quickening and the chilly air creating a dull ache in his lungs. His feet slipped as he crossed the empty street, and he tried to not lose his balance, especially when he was right in front of Snape's house, staring at the closed draperies through the small window. He gulped air quickly, licking his lips absently, before knocking slowly on the worn door.

A few moments past, and Harry knocked again, harder this time, his knuckles beginning to throb. There was sudden rustling from inside the house, and the door opened just a crack, the features of a man emerging from the darkness of the room. The eyes fell upon Harry, and then widened a fraction before the man went to slam the door. Harry's hand shot forward, flat on the cold wood, pushing the door open as Snape tried to shut it.

"Wait," Harry yelled, his voice rough, "Please, I need to converse with you!" _Converse?_ Harry cringed inwardly -- he had never used that word in his life. Dumb fuck.

"Let go of my door, Potter." Snape's voice was low, impatient but not angry.

"Please, Professor." They both cringed at that.

"I am not your professor any longer. Now let go of my damned door."

"Wait -- wait a second. I need to ask you a few questions."

Snape stilled and his face whitened. "About what, Potter?" he asked after a moment, his voice almost a whisper.

"Can I come in . . . sir? I rather it not be discussed in public."

Snape's eyes moved over Harry's face, most likely weighing his options. "Fine, but be quick about it. I am in no mood for your antics."

Harry began to retort, but stopped himself. He was long past allowing Snape affect him. Snape moved to the side as Harry entered the house, his eyes unable to stop from searching his surroundings, his curiosity thick in his system. He was disappointed to see an ordinary, modest living room.

"What is it?" Snape asked tersely.

Harry glanced at Snape before focusing his eyes on the floor. He seemed unable to look the man in the face. "It's -- It's about Thorfinn Rowle."

There was silence. Then Snape said, "I wondered when the Ministry would catch on. I'm a step ahead of you, Potter." He sounded tired, and Harry sensed him moving to the other side of the room.

Harry felt comfortable to look up. He saw that Snape had pulled something out of a drawer, a phial of sorts, but it was black and its contents were a mystery.

"Here," Snape said, "it's my memories with Rowle. Now get the hell out of my house."

Harry couldn't believe his luck. "How do I know these are real? How can I trust you?"

Snape stared at Harry without blinking. "_Everything_ is in that phial. I stress that word -- I'm not going anywhere. If you find a problem with them, come back and I will easily give a testimony."

Nodding, Harry thought to thank Snape. He held out his hand instead. "Sir."

Snape eyed his hand, then gingerly took it. His grasp was cold, but strong and Harry shivered from the touch. He was on the street again before he could get the feeling out of his mind.

**XXX**

The flat in which Harry lived was small, empty and perfect. It was in possession of only two rooms -- one for the loo and the other for all the rest of his living needs. He currently sat at his table, staring down at a steaming cup of tea and fingering the phial in his pocket. His face reflected in the brown liquid. A sense of excitement boiled inside of him from the thought of finding more about Snape and Rowle.

Gulping down his tea, Harry summoned his pensieve to the table, grateful that he had decided to tote it back from his office. He focused on calming his heart as he poured the memories into the basin, swirling them together with the tip of his wand. Suddenly, a scene began to unfold and Harry leaned forward without hesitation to view it better. He recognised it as a bedroom before dipping his head into the silvery substance, falling through the usual darkness and landing in the center of what appeared to be a Slytherin dormitory.

Clean stones covered the floor and green and silver fabric draped from the beds and walls. He spun on his heels, interested in the details of the room, mentally comparing it to his former dormitory at Hogwarts. Immersed in looking around, he was unaware of the harsh breathing at first. It came from a bed not far from where Harry stood, and with stunned realization, he heard a deep voice dotted with loud pants.

He inched forward, mentally preparing himself for the sight he would happen upon. Stopping just before the bed, he reached out a trembling hand and pulled back the drapes, revealing Snape and Rowle, together and naked. Harry gasped loudly as he saw Rowle on his hands and knees, the bedding softening the force of Snape's thrusts. Rowle was more robust than chubby now, his face red and the veins in his neck straining as he pushed back, meeting each one of Snape's movements. His face was still ugly, his protruding arousal disgusting to Harry, but it was not enough to make him look away. His expression was one of discomfort, almost painful and Harry wondered if he was even enjoying it.

Snape, on the other hand, fascinated Harry. His body was stark white except for the deep blotches of red appearing along his chest and face, his eyes twisted closed and dark eyelashes contrasting violently against his pale cheeks. He bit his bottom lip in pleasure and concentration, his hands clawing at Rowle's hips. Snape was so skinny -- his ribs and shoulder blades poking out in awkward directions, his long arms confined to a strange, half relaxed position.

Rowle panted loudly as Snape thrust into him one more time, coming without making a sound, his eyes squeezing together even more, as if trying to forget where he was. After a moment he slid off the bed, his legs trembling slightly as he grasped the bed post. Rowle rolled onto his back and looked at Snape expectedly.

"What about me?" he whined, motioning down to his erection. "You have to finish me off."

Snape shrugged as he pulled on his underpants and trousers. "Do it yourself. I know without doubt that you can."

Rowle made an angry noise in the back of his throat as he fisted himself quickly to completion. Snape seemed mildly amused as he watched. Harry couldn't help but be stunned by his coldness.

Darkness fell once more and the scene changed, the dormitory replaced by the Hogwarts library. Snape and Rowle sat at a secluded table, their chairs turned toward each other, arms brushing and their faces close.

"No, really. You must listen to me. He can do great things for us -- for the wizardry world."

Rowle didn't seem very interested in what Snape had to say. At the moment, he was sliding his fingers up and down Snape's thigh, smiling coyly at him and watching for his reaction. Snape smacked his hand away, apparently annoyed by Rowle's actions.

"Stop it! Listen to me -- "

Rowle sighed loudly, resting his head against his arm. "This means nothing to me -- or you. We're just kids."

Snape gave a noticeable flinch. "Are you mad? It means the world to us! We are the future!"

Rolling his eyes, Rowle said, "Don't be so dramatic. I'll come with you to meet this man you keep talking about."

Snape seemed satisfied, and a small smile appeared on his face.

The library had dissolved into a dark room before Harry could even blink, and slight anxiety coursed through him as he tried to search for Snape. Shadows moved around him, and a desperate cry filled the cold air. He took a step backwards, eyes darting around -- then finally, someone illuminated the tip of their wand and Snape's features came into view. His eyes gleamed slightly from the light, but they were unreadable and his mouth was set firmly in a twist of disgust.

Footsteps came from behind and Harry turned to see Rowle, staring at Snape with beady eyes and a hungry look on his face.

"Where did that screaming come from?" Snape asked, his voice surprisingly casual.

Rowle smiled sickly at Snape. For the first time Harry realised how much older they both appeared.

"You wanna have some fun?"

Snape blinked. "Show me."

Motioning with a hand, Rowle directed him down some creaking stairs, their movement causing dust all around to drift into the air and stick to their clothes. They were in some sort of old cottage, Harry wagered, by the small rooms and dank smell of the ocean. The air was thick -- it clung to his chest and didn't let go until the next breath. As they walked, the cries died away, creating a hard knot in the center of Harry's stomach, his heart pounding in his ears.

Rowle stopped abruptly at a room, then turned to Snape, his dark eyes watching for the other man's reaction. Snape gave nothing away; he merely nodded and waved his hand to the door. Rowle didn't open it at once, as if he wanted to create deep suspense. After a long moment, he turned and pushed the rotten door open and the two men walked swiftly into the room.

Harry made an unheard noise in the back of his throat. A man lay in a corner of the room, bound and bleeding severely, unconscious from the attack on his body. Snape moved closer to look at him, bending down with his wand to inspect the wounds.

"You did this?" he asked quietly, his head snapping up to look at Rowle.

Rowle gave a vicious laugh. "Of course I did! Isn't it brilliant? Totally at my mercy. . . " He walked slowly to the man and crouched down to admire his work, lifting a finger to trace a particular nasty cut along the man's cheek. "He's so beautiful."

"You are out of your mind." Snape's voice broke with emotion. He backed away from Rowle.

"You wanna see me finish him off?"

"How many others?"

Rowle shrugged, then smiled again. "Who cares. Maybe you rather see me fuck him again?"

"Stop this!" Snape bellowed, his sudden show of anger stunning both Harry and Rowle. "You -- we need to get out of here. Now!" His face had grown white and light sweat appeared along his temple.

"No, no -- you go. I wanna stay here." Rowle's voice was full of defiance.

The room faded, and Harry stood in Dumbledore's office, who sat in his chair, watching Snape pace back and forth.

"He needs to be stopped! Killing -- I don't know how many, but it seems like he knows what he's doing."

"But how?" Dumbledore began calmly, "We are in the middle of a war. Who will stand up to stop a Death Eater?"

"I will!" Snape cried, his chest beating up and down, his nostrils flaring.

"You feel too much. Too much for Rowle to kill him and too much for the men he kills."

Snape looked at Dumbledore, aghast. "Do you mean --"

"I mean that there is nothing you can do for those poor men now. You need to focus strictly on Tom, and what his plans are for the future."

Without warning, Harry was pulled out of the memories, landing on his feet with discomfort. It took him a while to straighten himself out, reassuring himself that up and down were in the correct directions. His stomach twisted and knotted together, the image of that man tied up, his shoulders and neck dripping with blood in the forefront of his mind. Harry had seen the crime photos from the other men found -- it match almost to the exact detail. He shuddered to think Rowle was out there now, prowling the streets and pubs for another victim. The men he attacked were young, attractive and had bright futures, maybe even girls who they would marry.

Snape seemed the only option Harry had, especially if he was to find this man quickly. Snape had an emotional pull with him -- he knew how Rowle worked, where he lived -- maybe exactly where he was at the moment. The memories, though gruesome, seemed to only show Snape's innocence. It didn't help Harry one bit in finding Rowle. A sudden feeling of restlessness eclipsed his thoughts, and he rushed to find parchment to send a message to Dean.

A few minutes later, Dean's face popped into Harry's fireplace, his eyes tired and his hair ruffled.

"Harry, it's good to talk to you. Anything new on the Rowle case?"

Harry told him about what he saw in the memories. Dean seemed disgusted.

"So, Snape and Rowle were lovers? It makes sense -- but the image. . ."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said quickly, "but what do you think I should do?"

"Well, obviously you need to go back and talk to Snape. These memories are only pieces of the puzzle. We need to know how to complete it. I'll be stuck here all tomorrow dealing with these damn dragons. Do you know they're killing villagers now? What a fucking headache."

Harry nodded. "It sounds like you have your hands full. I'll go back to question Snape tomorrow."

That night as Harry lay in bed, the vision of Snape played through his consciousness. Every time Harry closed his eyes, all he would see was a pale, lanky body with awkward limbs and intense dark eyes. It made his breath catch in his throat, and he couldn't help but be aroused by the image. He had been aroused by men before, but never like this -- and never in a million years did he ever think that Snape could affect him in such a way. As he rolled to his side, aching for sleep, he refused to masturbate and continued to ignore the seeking erection he had.

_To Be Continued_


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** I edited this part as much as I could so it wouldn't be too graphic. I don't know it I succeeded, so if you have a problem with sexual situations, don't read on. Also, thanks to everyone who favorited this fic. I just wonder why no one reviewed when they thought this fic could be one of their favorites. A great thanks to my beta, Marauderswolf!

**XXX**

When Snape opened the door and saw the expression on Harry's face, he laughed. Harry was surprised by his reaction and his face reddened deeply.

"I suppose you saw the memories?"

Harry nodded, trying to hide his blushing from Snape with his hand. "I need to talk with you, though. You didn't really give me the answers I need."

"All the answers are there. If only you took the time to look for them."

Anger suddenly surged through Harry. "I don't think you understand, Snape. Our time is limited. Rowle will strike any day now!"

Snape stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He stepped aside and waved for Harry to follow him. Entering the living room, Harry took a seat next to Snape. He wasted no time to ask Snape the questions he needed to know. Turning his gaze to his hands, which rested on his thighs, he began:

"Do you know where Rowle is?"

"No," Snape answered simply.

"Why did the memories stop at the first war?"

"Because I didn't see Rowle after that. Only when he contacted me to meet him in Knockturn Alley did I hear from him again."

"You say that the clues are in those memories. How so?"

Snape hesitated. "Lazy as always. Always wanting the rewards without working for them."

"Just tell me," Harry snapped, jerking his head up to look at Snape. He regretted it the moment their eyes locked, and he had to gulp thickly, the piercing black of Snape's eyes striking him down and forcing him to shift awkwardly. Through everything, he felt himself grow hard, the material of his trousers tightening. He blushed from it and had to focus on the rough carpet on the floor to continue his questioning.

"Please, help me," he said quietly.

"It should be obvious, even to dunderheads. Rowle likes to keep men near the ocean, in small cottages like the one in my memory, right? Where was the last body found?"

"Oh -- Jesus. But we didn't think he'd be that shite-faced to stick around. The Ministry searched Cornwall -- found nothing."

"What about Penzance?"

"The English Channel. He can easily escape if he wants to! God, how fucking fuck -- fuck --" He paused. "I thought you didn't know where Rowle was."

"I don't -- this is only my own assumption."

Harry stood and turned his back to Snape, enabling himself to think clearly. He needed to search the cottages at Penzance, quietly so that Rowle wouldn't be tempted to flee. He wondered if he should ask Snape to join him.

Spinning around, he stared down at Snape, inspecting the man's pale face, his crooked nose and dark eyes. There was something behind Snape's indifferent expression that Harry couldn't pinpoint. It seemed like a challenge, as though he had thrown down the gauntlet, testing Harry to make the right decision.

"Come with me," Harry whispered, his lips numb and his heart pounding. "I can't do it alone and I don't think we have time for another Auror to join me. We need to get Rowle before he kills again."

Snape licked his lips as he stared up at Harry, his eyes moving over his face in thought. Harry felt himself grow red, the skin on his cheeks and neck flaming from the focus of Snape's eyes. He couldn't believe how Snape made him act - it surprised him that he hadn't giggled yet.

Nodding in silent agreement, Snape stood and straightened the collar of his robes, his pale fingers stained with red and black smudges. Harry couldn't help but stare.

"What's on your hands?" The question escaped his lips before he could stop it.

Surprised, Snape looked down at his hands, spreading his fingers and flexing them. "They're stained - from the potion I made this morning."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling awkward as he tried to start a normal conversation with Snape.

"So, shall we rush off now or wait for our gallant horses?" Snape's lips twisted together in amusement.

Harry ignored his taunting. "Now, if you are ready."

"All right, let's go then."

They stood in silence, staring at one another.

"Um, do you know a certain spot where we can Apparate to?"

"I have a few ideas."

"Oh," Harry looked down at his feet, "do you think we should Apparate _together_?"

Snape rolled his eyes, obviously exasperated. "Aren't you full of questions today." He paused. "I think it would be essential to Apparate together for you have no idea where we should go." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Harry flushed, feeling the right idiot for asking Snape the question. "All right." He stepped closer to Snape and tilted his head toward the floor, unable to look the man so closely in the face.

"I won't turn you into stone, Potter, if you look at me." His voice was meant to sound amuse, but Harry thought he heard a strange sadness as well.

He laughed with nervous twitching, his voice higher than normal. Breathing in deeply, Harry straightened his back and looked into Snape's face, meeting the other man's gaze. They stared at each other for a moment, Snape's eyes piercing Harry and stealing his breath away. He couldn't help but blush, and he cursed himself silently for it. Snape most likely knew what he was thinking.

"Step closer to me and grab hold of my shoulders," Snape ordered.

Harry obeyed him without thinking, his hands grasping Snape's shoulders and his fingers curling into fabric for leverage. He felt hard muscle under his palms, and he shivered from the contact. His heart pounding fiercely in his chest, Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he smelled the spicy aroma of Snape, the scent forcing his stomach to twist violently.

Snape closed his eyes and his face fell into harsh lines as he concentrated, creases forming against his forehead and mouth. Harry was mesmerised -- his mouth grew dry and a faint ache began to pound deep within his groin. Darkness fell around them and he suddenly felt the uncomfortable feeling of Apparition. They landed in a vacant field, tall grass surrounding them, the high sun beaming through the sky. It took a moment for Harry to realise that he still held Snape tightly.

Embarrassed, Harry jumped back and said quickly, his voice strained, "You lead the way."

Nodding, Snape turned on his heel and stalked through the grass, his heavy boots crushing the plants and leaving imprints of the soles in the flattened grass. Harry pulled out his wand and followed, the heat of the day reddening his cheeks. Sweat began to form under his arms. They left the field and entered a small forest, squirrels running away and the air dramatically cooler.

Minutes passed and Harry wondered if he should say something. "Where are we going?" he called out to Snape, who was a few meters away from him.

Snape turned his head slightly and said over his shoulder, "A group of cottages, not too far away from the beach. We are taking the long way so we won't be seen."

"Oh," Harry said quietly, as suspicion began to run deep within him. What if Snape was really the accomplice to Rowle? What if he was drawing Harry deep into the forest just so he could finish him off? Clutching his wand tighter, he forced himself to ignore the anxiety within him. If he had come this far with Snape, he should at least see where it would take him.

It seemed like hours they walked through the forest, but finally the trees thinned away and soon Harry could see the ocean, the air becoming thicker and saltier. A group of small cottages stood on a grassy hill, illuminated by the sun and clear sky. They looked desolate and lonely, the windows blackened and a few boarded up.

Snape waited for him by worn steps, which led up to the first cottages on the hill, his cloak blowing sideways.

"Where do you want to start?" Harry asked.

"There," Snape answered, pointing with a long finger to the furthest cottage, a dingy little building which seemed to be unoccupied.

"Shouldn't we start with these first?"

Shaking his head, Snape said, "No, I have a feeling it's that one."

Harry shrugged as he followed Snape, his steps careful against the cracked steps and steep angle. The roar of the ocean became more apparent with each passing moment, and soon they stood in front of the cottage, inspecting the worn door.

"Should we find another way in?"

"No one's home, " Snape responded simply.

"Oh."

Snape stepped forward and raised his wand, aiming it at the knob and unlocking the door, moving swiftly into the room without waiting for Harry. The room smelled of rotten wood and mildew as Harry pushed the door closed, the frame weak and unsupportive. Snape turned to him and put a finger to his lips, pointing to a set of stairs which led to a lower level.

They began to trek down the stairs, each step creaking loudly, and Snape waved his wand through the air, casting a silencing spell. Harry's heart pounded in his chest, leading up to his neck and ears. He felt the blood rush through his veins, and his palms began to sweat, the cool wetness forming under his arms and above his lip. Darkness met them at the bottom, and he accidently collided with Snape, unaware that the man had stopped.

"What do you suppose we do?" Harry whispered in Snape's ear, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady himself.

"There is a room down here, like in my memory," Snape said quietly, his lips barely moving.

"IS ANYONE THERE? The stairs -- the stairs!" The voice was of a man. It had come from a wall opposite them. "HELP, HELP! ANYONE! PLEASE!"

Harry froze, staring at where the voice had come from. Trembling slightly, he advanced into the room, Snape by his side, their wands drawn out in front of them. Water dripped against the stone ground somewhere, and Harry turned his head slightly to the sound.

"Where are you? Tell us!" Harry yelled, anxiety settling in his chest.

"OH, THANK GOD. I'M IN HERE, BEHIND THE WALL. THERE'S A LOCK SOMEWHERE, I KNOW THERE IS!"

Snape rushed forward, lighting his wand and trailing it along the wall. Light illuminated a small lock, rusty with age. Tapping it once with his wand, the lock broke off, falling to the floor with a thud.

"Wow, why do you think it was so easy?"

"Never thought anyone would find out," Snape whispered, his breathing loud.

They hesitated before pulling the door open, eyes searching quickly for the man. A shadow moved in the corner of the room, apparently struggling with the ropes tied around his body. As their eyes adjusted, they found the man had blond hair, young -- with wide blue eyes and a firm jawline. His face and hands were bloodied, healing cuts and dried blood around his mouth.

"Oh, my -- thank you god. He's gone, dunno where." The man slurred his words slightly.

Harry rushed to him, his wand cutting open the bonds in a quick fashion, gently for he did not want to hurt him. There was sudden movement from above them, and Snape looked up, his eyes glinting.

The man cowered against the wall. "Don't you fucking leave me. He's coming, he's coming!"

Raising his wand, Snape stepped forward, staring at the door. No one breathed as they heard footsteps descend the stairs. Sweat began to form around his wand as Harry aimed it at the door, waiting. It felt like a dream, the door creaking open and Rowle standing there, stunned to see Snape and Harry. Without hesitating, strong ropes flew from Snape's wand, wrapping themselves around Rowle.

Gasping, he fell to the floor, his face colliding with the stones, a loud _crunch_ echoing throughout the room. Filth began to spill from Rowle's lips, his eyes crazed as he looked up at Snape, total revulsion smeared across his features.

"You traitor!" he yelled, struggling to get out of his bonds. "What? What is this about? Trying to play hero!"

Snape didn't flinch. "You are a monster, Rowle. A monster."

Rowle laughed, his voice tinged with unrestrained madress. "You are a damned hypocrite! Because I wanted to have some fun? You have murdered people as well!"

"Only those who deserved it."

"You tell yourself that. Lie and lie until you make yourself believe that it's not your fault that my life is ruined!" He took an a mocked voice. "_Oh, please, join the Dark Lord! He will do great things!_ Fuck you! Fuck, fuck, fuck you!" His face had grown red and spit dripped from his mouth, onto the floor. "At least I'm honest -- I can't stop it. I want them all the time -- never gonna stop."

"You disgust me," Snape said dangerously, his eyes vicious.

Harry was a bit breathless. "I'll call for backup. The Ministry can take him to prison."

"No!" Rowle yelled, "Never! Never!"

The blond man walked over and kicked him, hard in the face. "You bastard. Fucking bastard." He stomped hard on his nose, breaking it.

Rowle ceased to move, blood dripping down his face. A sense of satisfaction surged through Harry.

**XXX**

"Here," Harry said, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Snape, who sat at his kitchen table, cradling his head in his hands.

Exhaling loudly, Snape reached for the cup and gulped down the tea in one swift swallow. He set the cup back on the table, the lines on his face dissolving into satisfied calm. Blinking, he turned his gaze to Harry, raising an eyebrow at him. Harry laughed, a heavy pressure finally escaping his chest. The side of his cheek was sore from a small cut, dried blood smeared across his skin. It hurt for him to laugh.

A thought occurred to him. "You knew all along." His voice was filled with wistful curiosity. "You knew Rowle was going to be in that cottage. You knew exactly where he was all along." Anger began to course through him.

"Obviously," Snape answered dryly.

"Why didn't you tell someone -- the Ministry!"

"Do you really think anyone would have believed me? Or worse, they would have thought I was helping him!"

Harry shook his head, his mouth falling open. "So -- you needed me, really."

"Precisely." Snape watched him for a moment, then raised a hand and ran his fingers over the cut on Harry's cheek, his touch light. "I'm not sorry, no matter what I had to do. Rowle is gone and I'm finally at peace for it." They stared at one another, something flashing within Snape's dark eyes, his hand tightening his hold against Harry's chin.

Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled the hand up to his lips, sucking Snape's index and middle finger into his mouth. He had no idea what gave him the courage, but he suspected the violent twisting in his stomach had something to do with it. Snape's eyes widened considerably, the black pupils dilating and his lips parting in a gasp. Curling his tongue around the fingers, Harry allowed the salty taste of Snape's skin to wash over him, a bit of saliva dripping from his mouth as Snape began to move his fingers in and out. The jagged tips of his nails scratched the back of Harry's throat. It forced him to swallow and he moaned softly as Snape added another finger.

The anxiety and stress from the day disappeared in an instant. Snape's eyes flashed between Harry's and his fingers thrusting into the reddened mouth. After a few moments Harry allowed the fingers to slip from his mouth, his back arching so he could lean over the table and kiss Snape. Placing a hand on his chest, Snape stopped Harry inches away from his face.

He stared hard at Harry. "What drove you to this?" His voice was quiet, controlled but his cheeks were reddened with desire.

"You," Harry breathed, his body aching for touch, "that memory, what happened today. Everything."

Snape blinked at him. "You've changed -- not a boy anymore," he murmured, as his hand trailed down and slipped under Harry's dirty sweater, the remaining saliva slick against his abdomen as Snape caressed his hand up to Harry's chest, curling his fist into the small patch of hair that he found there. Bending over, he captured Harry's lips with a kiss, as he raked his nails down the soft skin, causing the younger man to moan deeply.

Breaking away, Snape said, "You will regret it. This -- me."

Harry shook his head quickly, his eyes gleaming and his chest beating up and down. "No -- no, I won't."

"I can't deny that I don't want you," Snape muttered, standing and pulling Harry up with him, his hand trailing down to cup Harry through his trousers. He smirked faintly. "Ah, and I can tell you want me as well."

"Oh, God," Harry groaned, as he felt Snape squeeze him, rubbing in a circular motion. Bolts of excitement surged through him, his legs trembling from the effort of holding himself up. He leaned forward and nipped at Snape's neck, licking a straight line up to behind the man's ear, allowing himself to bite down softly on the tender flesh. Snape moaned, his chest rumbling, and Harry smiled roguishly.

Snape captured his lips once more, urgent in his tasting, as he tore open Harry's trousers and wrapped a sweaty hand around his arousal. He thrust forward, unable to control his movements, the feeling of Snape's fist overwhelming Harry, his eyes twisting closed and his mouth falling open in a silent yell. Blood rushed through his veins, a pressure building up within him, and all traces of doubt escaping his consciousness. Only the _now_ and _more_ repeating in his mind, the world lost to pleasure.

"W-wait," Harry breathed against Snape lips, but the hand tightened its hold and gave one quick twist, and Harry came, his lips parting and a sticky white splattering on Snape's robes and hands. He slumped against Snape, drained in more ways than one, his forehead pressed into the junction of Snape's neck and shoulder. He tried to soften his gasps, bubbles of air burning his raw lungs, and cold sweat dripping down his temples.

"Do you have a bedroom?" he asked Snape, smiling lazily up at him.

Snape hesitated for a moment, then gave a quick nod. Smirking, Snape grabbed him by his collar and pulled him through the door of the kitchen and down a darkened hallway. He opened a door at the far end without turning his back to Harry, walking backwards into the room and closing the door once more with a kick of his boot.

Steering him to the bed, Snape pushed him gently down to lay against the soft blanketing, his hands taking a fistful of Harry's sweater and trying to pull it over his head. Harry sat up, grabbing onto his hands to stop him.

"No," he whispered, his voice rough with arousal. "You first."

"As you wish," Snape purred, unbuttoning his robes and allowing them to fall to the floor. His shirt soon followed them, and Harry sucked in a deep breath as he began to unbutton his trousers. Reaching out with trembling hands, he helped Snape out of his trousers and pants, his eyes focusing on the man in front of him. He licked his lips, as he tried to cure his nerves, his eyes focusing on Snape' face, and he inspected the way Snape gazed down at him, eyes turned downward and gleamed with emotion.

Leaning in, Harry pressed his lips to Snape's thigh, mouthing kisses along the pale flesh, up to his stomach. He felt Snape tremble under his mouth, and he squeezed his eyes closed as his hands grasped Snape's hips, pulling the man closer. Licking his lips, he sucked the head of Snape into his mouth, swirling his tongue around. A low moan issued from the man above him, and Harry took him further into his mouth.

A hand wrapped around the base of Harry's head, cradling it as Snape began to move, fingers curling into Harry's hair and tugging. Harry groaned, knowing it would send electrified bolts through Snape's whole body. Stilling, Snape bit his lip and pushed Harry's face forward, as he came silently, nothing but a soft gasp telling of his pleasure.

His jaw aching and his lips swollen, Harry stared up at him with dark eyes, wanting nothing more than to have Snape inside him -- _right this moment_. He supposed he should inspect the events that had led him to this point, but it seemed so unimportant as Snape crawled on the bed, lying down next to him and caressing his fingers up and down Harry's chest.

Harry turned his head toward him. "Could you go another round?"

Smirking, Snape asked, "What do you have in mind, Potter?"

"Harry, it's Harry."

His fingers slowing their movement, Snape seemed to mull over the name _Harry_ in his mind. He leaned in and kissed Harry without a word, biting at his lower lip. Pulling back, Harry whispered in his ear, "Say it, come on -- say my name."

Snape tensed for a moment, then leaned close to him, his chin rough again Harry's cheek and said, his voice low, "Harry, what do you want? _Harry_."

"I want you to fuck me," he responded without hesitation, his back arching as Snape took one of his nipples between his thumb and index finger. He stifled a gasp as Snape tweaked his nipple to hardness, then lowered his head and took it in between his teeth, biting down gently. "Stop this," Harry panted, staring at him. "Fuck me, right -- now."

Snape's lips twisted in amusement. "What exactly does fucking imply?"

"Oh, jesus, fuck -- stop, really. Now, now."

"No, tell me, Harry. Tell me."

Grabbing his shoulders, he pulled Snape down on top of him, crushing his lips against Snape's. "I want you right god-damn now."

The tell-tale sign of arousal reddened Snape's cheeks and neck, his eyes focused on Harry as he panted softly. He reached out his hand and summoned a jar from across the room silently.

"Spread your legs," Snape ordered, his voice husky. He kneeled between Harry's legs and opened the jar, slicking his fingers with the clear substance. "Breathe," he said, as he brought a finger down and massaged it against his opening. He pushed gently, allowing Harry to suck him in on his own pace. Hissing softly, Harry waited until his body had begun accustom to the intrusion before nodding.

Thrusting his finger in and out, Snape waited a few moments until he added another finger -- then a third, and it wasn't long before Harry was squirming on the bed, legs relaxed in a wanton fashion.

"Have you done this before?" Snape asked.

Nodding, Harry answered, "Yeah, but not for a long time -- don't be afraid, though."

Snape didn't respond as he slicked himself with the same clear substance and positioned himself in front of Harry's entrance. "Remember to breathe. Ready?"

"Yes," Harry answered, almost exasperated. All thoughts escaped his mind, though, the moment Snape slid into him, fully sheathing himself in one hard thrust. Twin moans echoed through the room. The first two thrusts were slow -- hesitant, but soon movements became quick, almost brutal, intensity and heated breaths surrounding them.

Twisting his eyes closed, Harry lost himself in the feeling, anchored and heavy, wrapping his legs around Snape's waist and never letting go. He bit his lip, a rush of emotion flowing through him, a pressure beginning to coil deep within his stomach. He reached down between their bodies and fisted himself, quickly so he could keep up with Snape's pace.

Snape suddenly stilled, thrusting one more time and coming with a low grunt. After a few moments, Harry also stilled, his body arching up and white bursts coating his hand and Snape's stomach. Snape collapsed against Harry, breathing loudly and wrapping his arms around the younger man.

"So unexpected," he murmured against Harry's ear, his voice drowsy.

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, I don't know what I'm gonna tell Dean in the morning."

_To Be Continued._


End file.
